Perfection


The Great Teachings crumble in my hands
Like ancient bones,
Dry, dead, brittle, lifeless.


The Great Teachings crumble in my hands,
Like ancient bones,
Dry, dead, brittle, lifeless.

Do this.
Don’t do that.
Be good.

They speak of something
For which I have no longing,
Attained through effort and merit.

Such achievement I leave to those more worthy,
Who struggle in the hellworld
Of Qualification and Conditionality.

It is good to be good, and to act,
But to my astonishment and delight,
My Beloved cares nothing for such things.

I would wander this life,
Heartbroken for all Eternity,
If I believed that to be Loved by Her…

I must become perfect.